Mary bowed to her father, and glided away. The men then clustered round Boone, to hear the plan that was to avail them in their present difficulty. “In times of peril,” said Boone, “my knowledge of the Indian character has always served me. I first reflect what I would do were I myself a savage; and, in taking measures to provide against the things which I imagine would be done by myself, I have never yet been disappointed. The Indians will not rashly rush upon us, and expose themselves to our bullets, as they storm the palisade. Had they the resolution to do this, not one of us would escape alive, for they would tear down the house. It is a very large war-party, and they could begin at the top and before morning remove every stone. But they shall not touch one of them—” “I’m so glad!” ejaculated Joe. “Hush your jaw!” said Sneak. “They will be divided into two parties,” continued Boone; “one party will attack us from the west with their arrows, keeping at a respectful distance from our guns, while the other will force a passage to the palisade from the east without being seen, for they will come under the snow! We must instantly plant a keg of powder, on the outside of the inclosure, and blow them up when they come. Joe, bring out a keg of powder, and also the fishing rods I saw in the house. The latter must be joined together, and a communication opened through them. They must be filled with powder and one end placed in the keg, while the other reaches the inclosure, passing through an auger hole. You all understand now what is to be done—let us go to work—we have no time to spare.” It was not long before every thing was executed according to the directions of Boone, and at nightfall each man was stationed at a loophole, with gun in hand, awaiting the coming of the savages. CHAPTER VIII. Night—Sagacity of the hounds—Reflection—The sneaking savages—Joe’s disaster—The approach of the foe under the snow—The silent watch. The night was beautiful. The moon sailed through a cloudless sky, and the north wind, which had whistled loudly among the branches of the trees in the valley at the close of day, was hushed, and a perfect calm pervaded the scene. “What’re you leaving your post for?” asked Sneak, as Joe suddenly abandoned his watch on the west side of the inclosure, and tripped across to Roughgrove. “Mr. Roughgrove—Mr. Roughgrove,” said Joe, in a low tone. “Well, what do you want with me?” responded the old ferryman. “I wanted to tell you that your two oarsmen are forgotten, and to ask you if we hadn’t better call to them to come up here, where they’ll be out of danger?” “They are _not_ forgotten,” said Roughgrove; “I sent them over the river to procure assistance, if possible.” “Thank you. I’m glad they’re out of danger. I couldn’t rest till I found out something about them,” said Joe, retiring; but instead of resuming his watch, he slipped into the house.